Long Time
by DarkAngel0410
Summary: Randy wants to have a talk with Punk. Slash.


**Story Title:** Long Time

**Story Type: **Slash

**Characters: **CM Punk, Randy Orton,

**Pairings: **past Punk/Randy, Punk/Colt

**Rating: **PG-13/NC-17

**Disclaimer: **How many times to I have to tell everyone? They are not mine. I'm very sad about it as well, but that's the way life is. They belong to themselves and Vince/ROH.

**Warnings: **Slash, language

**A/N: **Here's another one. *sighs* Yeah, I guess I can't deny that this is a series now. Damn Randy and Punk and their insanely good promo cutting. I suggest you read the other stories in this series which are "Eyes", "Your Own Fault" and "5 and 1 -Punk Remix". Hope you enjoy, peeps. Oh, and if anyone has a good name for this series, hit me up with it 'cause I gots nothing, lol.

Punk stalked toward his door as the pounding continued. He didn't get to sleep until an hour before and he was fucken exhausted; he had plane to catch in the afternoon.

His mood instantly transformed when he opened his front door and found Randy Orton standing there.

"Well, well, Randall. What're you doing here?" Punk asked, raising an eyebrow when Randy shoved him aside and just walked in.

"I came to tell you to stop your shit," Randy growled, walking over to the window and looking out over the Windy City. "Before one of us gets hurt."

"Why, Randy, I didn't know you still cared," Punk taunted as he closed the front door.

Leaning against it, he looked Randy over, smirking when he noticed the bags under Randy's eyes. He was getting under Randy's skin and that meant Randy was playing right into his hands.

"Fuck that," Randy snarled, his eyes flashing. "I just thought I'd let you know I meant every word of that promo."

"That's good, Randy," Punk told him, and he meant it, too. This wouldn't be nearly as much fun if one of them was half assing it. "I've already let you know why I was doing this."

Randy sneered. "Colt. Right. I've been thinking about that; and I'm not buying it. You're too fucken self centered to do something like this for anyone but yourself."

Punk just smiled. That never bothered him; the only person who mattered knew the real him. "Is that the real reason you showed up, Randall? To warn me?

"Job done then," Punk moved away from the door and walked over next to him. "You can leave now. I don't know if you remember, but we have to go over seas again tomorrow and I'd like to get some sleep tonight."

Randy turned to snarl something but he saw something in Punk's chest piece that caught his attention. He reached out and grabbed his arm before Punk could move away from him. Randy cautiously reached out a finger and stroked the symbol that was almost lost among everything else.

He looked over at Punk and said softly: "Is that for him?" Punk nodded, his eyes gleaming. Randy's fingers tightened around Punk's arm before he let go.

"Ink is forever, you know that as well as I do. He's the only person I know who I want around for that long."

"That's fucken bullshit," Randy said. "I don't know what game you're playing but I know the fucken truth about you, _Phil_. You're doing this for yourself and I'm gonna keep punting my way through your fucken sheep; and come 'Mania, you're gonna end up in the fucken hospital."

Before Punk could do more then smirk, Randy heard footsteps coming down the hall. Colt walked into the living room, in boxers and a t-shirt, looking at them blearily.

"Fuck, could you guys keep it down?" Colt demanded, walking past the two of them into the kitchen. He went to the fridge and pulled out a can of soda. Popping the top, he chugged down half of it before leaning back against the counter.

"So, what's going on?" Colt asked casually.

Punk grinned at him and Colt smiled back, and it told Randy all he needed to know. Punk had never been one to be very affectionate, especially in front of other people but Randy could still remember the way Punk had smiled at him every time he walked into a room.

But Punk had never had that grin that lit up his whole face, including his eyes. Even at their best, he had never been that happy to see Randy. Randy clenched his jaw and turned to look out the window.

Punk rolled his eyes and shrugged. Colt just smiled again and looked at Randy before raising an eyebrow at Punk.

"We're just discussing things," Punk answered, and the smirk was back on his face. "We've both come to the conclusion that this is serious business."

"The 'Mania thing again, Punkers? Christ, let it go." "I can't," Punk told him, his voice serious. "I _won't_."

Colt just sighed and nodded; he knew Punk better then anyone and the chances of Punk giving up on this were slim to none. "Alright, I'm gonna go lay down. Try not to bleed on any of my stuff."

When Colt walked by, Punk grabbed his wrist and stopped him. Colt looked at him and Punk smiled, trying to let the other man know everything that he was to him. Colt smiled back at him and nodded; after almost thirteen years as friends, they didn't always need words to talk to each other.

"How fucken touching," Randy sneered, hating that part of him was upset over the fact that Punk had moved on. "I'm sure he'll be happy when you're in the hospital."

"You still here, Randy?" Punk taunted, loving that Randy was getting so caught up in this game. "Do you have anything useful to say or is it just more pointless rambling?"

"I'm gonna enjoy punting you in the skull," Randy growled, stalking to the door. "And this time, it's gonna be fucken years before you'll be able to wrestle again."

"That's the best you've got, Randall? It's going to take more then some vague threat to scare me away. In fact, there's nothing you can say that will keep me away from you. Vince McMahon himself couldn't keep me away from you.

"Even if it means my career, I'm going to keep doing what I said was going to: keep you from getting near that fucken title. The closest that you're going to get to that strap is if Mike happens to hit you with it.

"There's nothing you can say to change my mind because there's nothing that means as much to me as Colt does. _Nothing_. I know you have no idea how to be that loyal to anyone but yourself, so trust me when I say you won't be able to stop me.

"And anyone who tries to block for you is going to find that out the hard way."

Randy opened the door and looked over his shoulder at the smaller man. "Either way, this ends at 'Mania." With those last words, Randy left the apartment, closing the door behind him.

"That's what you think, Orton." Punk put a put to the ink on his chest. Yes, it was forever and that was a long time, but he was happy with who he was going to spend his with.


End file.
